For Educational Purposes Only
by Xix Crane
Summary: Mr. Y never leaves the island, not even to see the new dinosaur exhibit at the museum with Gustave. He can't bear disappointing the boy, though...


"...I'm certain Mr. Squelch will be free to take you when the exhibit opens. I believe I'll be otherwise occupied at that time, you see, a shipment is coming in and -"

"It's fine," Gustave sighed, cutting Mr. Y off mid-sentence as politely as he could. He held his hand out to take the flier back. A look of subtle consternation settled on the features not covered by the mask as he pressed the flier back into Gustave's hand.

"Erik, couldn't you consider -"  
"It's fine, maman, really; Mr. Y is busy." It was bad enough to have to cut off Mr. Y, now he had to stop his mother from making this whole thing more uncomfortable than it already was. It couldn't hurt to ask, his mother had said. She was a bit wrong, in that respect.

They had gone into the city that afternoon and, seeing Gustave as a perfectly solid mark, a man with advertisements for the latest exhibit at the Museum of Natural History got this paper right into his hands. Gustave's eyes were glued to it from that moment on. Dinosaurs — the word was in large type across the top, an illustration of one of the giant lizards right underneath. It went on to detail the new mounts and displays and Gustave was on fire with that kind of obsessive energy that consumes every child from time to time.

Although he was certainly not a child, Mr. Y shared that same passion. He would have books on the subject delivered to the park and he and Gustave would pour over them, sometimes losing entire afternoons drawing or painting or sculpting their versions of the fearsome beasts. They would at times go down to the shore during misty grey days and poke around for fossils too although they never found any. Gustave sometimes even imagined he could grow up and become a sort of dinosaur scientist, traveling the world and uncovering their enormous skeletons in exotic locales, writing volumes of heavily detailed information on this fascinating subject and giving riveting lectures at universities and stuffy world traveler clubs.

At first he thought that their shared interests in the subject of the new exhibit would be enough to draw Mr. Y out of his tower but on their car ride back to the park, eyes still riveted to the flier, he gradually realized how fruitless a request it would be. Miss Fleck had told him long ago, when his mother was still in recovery, that Mr. Y never, ever left the island. Oh, it was obvious that here and there he would slip out to do whatever it was that was so important he had to attend to it himself, but it was always under cover of night when most people were in bed and asleep. Any mention of Gustave and his mother going beyond the park gates was met with terse, carefully chosen words and absent-minded hand wringing, then a barely concealed rush of relief when they returned. Gustave keenly remembered the disastrous attempt his mother had made to encourage Mr. Y to socialize. Afterwards, he withdrew to his tower for days, profoundly rattled by stares and small talk.

He'd watched his mother do a delicate dance around Mr. Y over these past few months, learning from her how to tread lightly in dangerous territory regarding venturing beyond the safety of his amusement park. You must mind Mr. Y's feelings, she said. He can be very sensitive to things that don't bother you and I. At first, he couldn't believe her. Mr. Y was so strong, so smart; there was seemingly nothing he couldn't do and Gustave followed at his heel, the sorcerer's devoted apprentice. But now he understood the intense fear of outsiders and their scrutiny that would send Mr. Y scurrying back to the safety of the shadows.

Imagining a museum outing with him began as an exciting possibility and crumbled under the cold light of reality. There was no way that Mr. Y would go with him to a place packed with people in broad daylight, not even to see the dinosaur display they both were sure to adore.

"I hope you're not too upset, dear…" His mother said softly after they finished their nighttime prayers.

Gustave shook his head. "No, not at all...It's really alright."

She smoothed back his dark curls before landing a light kiss on his forehead. "You are so very understanding, Gustave. Such a fine gentleman."

"He would've loved to see it…" he sighed before slipping under the covers. His mother murmured a goodnight before turning out the light and leaving him to his dreams of cretaceous creatures.

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"_Gustave...Gustave…_"

An eerie voice called to him, bringing him up and out from the depths of a profound sleep. As consciousness crept in, he felt a light, repetitive tapping on the arm that was outside of the covers. With a grunt, he opened his eyes to find Mr. Y kneeling by his bed, the moonlight from the window behind him rendering him little more than a dark shape with glowing cat's eyes. Instinctively, he drew breath to let out a startled scream and was instantly silenced by fingers that seemed to the know exact moment to land on his lips to do so. He was grateful for the barrier of buttery black leather gloves warming up Mr. Y's usually cold touch.

"I apologize for coming to you under such unusual circumstances, Gustave, but I have a proposal."

Gustave, unsure of what else to do in such a situation, groggily rose up onto his elbows, squinting in the dark. He realized, as he woke up a bit more, that the balcony door was cracked open and that Mr. Y must've come through it. A shiver rippled across his shoulders in the chilled night air.

"A proposal?"

"I want to take you to the dinosaur exhibit at the museum."

A thrill ran through Gustave and yet he wondered - couldn't this have waited till tomorrow?

"Really? You'll go with me?"

"Yes, really."

"That's...that's great!"

"I knew you'd think so!" Mr. Y rose to his feet. "Go and get dressed but do so quietly - we don't want to wake your mother."

Oh...He meant to go to the museum right at that moment.

"But...won't it be closed?"

Mr. Y gave off a strange sort of chuckle and adjusted his gloves. "Not to us. Now go on — and stick to dark colors."

Gustave slid out of bed and meandered over to his chest of drawers, trying not to think too hard about what, exactly, that meant. Mr. Y did have a habit of getting what he wanted and sometimes he paid a pretty penny for it. Maybe he had passed a few hundred dollars to someone he knew to keep the museum open late. Maybe they would even get their own private tour! Yes, perhaps it was a bit wrong to slip out from under his mother's nose in the dead of night but how could he deny this opportunity? Now animated by a rush of excitement and anticipation, he pulled on his clothing as quickly and as quietly as possible, ready for their after hours adventure.

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"Oh, Gustave - you're shivering! Not to worry, I've got just the thing." Mr. Y held the door open on his black Fritchle, allowing Gustave to clamber up into the passenger seat.

Gustave didn't quite have the heart to admit that he was really shaking from the precarious climb out the penthouse hotel window, over the balcony, down the decorative trellis, and through the balcony doors of the empty suite one floor below that they had to undertake so that they didn't cross the hallway and wake his mother. In the night, the drop below them seemed endless and he clung to Mr. Y's back, arms fastened tight around his neck with every ounce of strength, as he easily maneuvered them up, over, and down, sure-footed as a mountain goat. Some of the camellia oil Mr. Y used in his wig had seeped into Gustave's collar and the strong floral scent wasn't doing anything good for his lingering vertigo. Gustave screwed on a brave face and pretended to be unfazed.

On the bench seat was velvet wrap covered in heavy decorative embroidery with Mr. Y's hat sitting on top of it. Mr. Y pulled the wrap snugly around Gustave's shoulders and, pleased with his bundling skills, gave Gustave a light pat on the head. Once he joined Gustave in the cab, he placed his hat just so on his head, his eyes gleaming under the dark brim, started the car, and set off into the city.

The moment they hit the roughly paved street just outside of Phantasma, something started rattling loudly in the glove compartment. Mr. Y reached over and popped it open.

"I almost forgot -" Inside was a ceramic cup nestled in an ornate gold filigree holder and three small slices of Turkish delight wrapped in wax paper. The rattling sound was from the similarly elegant lid jostling against the cup.

"A few sips of that should warm you and wake you. It won't do to have you fall asleep under the apatosaurus."

Gustave excitedly lifted the lid, the aroma of thick Turkish coffee wafting over his flushed cheeks. How he had wanted to try some whenever Mr. Y prepared it for his mother but she had always said it was too strong for him. Well, she wasn't here now, was she? The thick, sugary liquid was practically scalding even after sitting inside of the glove compartment. Gustave sucked on his burned tongue to try to soothe it in between appreciative, eager gulps.

"Do you like it?"

Gustave nodded, unable to answer properly as he was now supplementing the strong stuff with bites of hurriedly unwrapped Turkish delight.

"Good." Mr. Y's mouth came as close to a smile as it ever did. "Remember - don't drink the dregs at the bottom."

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"Ready? I'll let you carry the lantern." Mr. Y, standing at the passenger side door, brought up said lantern, filling the cabin with a warm, soft glow, his own eyes sparking like firelight. It was pitch black in this corner of Central Park which made it both an ideal spot to stow the car and incredibly difficult to navigate without cats' eyes. Gustave shook the ornate wrap from his shoulders and reached out to replace the little coffee cup in the glove compartment but Mr. Y stopped his hand, pressing down gently on the rim of the cup.

"You didn't drink all of it, right?"

Gustave nodded.

"Perfect. Did you know you can see the future in coffee just as you can in tea?"

Gustave shook his head.

"Look closely…"

Gustave bent closer to the cup.

"See right there?" Mr. Y pointed to a tiny tumble of wet coffee grounds.

"What does it say?" Gustave squinted, peering further into the brown lumps, hoping to divine a positive portent. The finger that was pointing to the potential omens in the cup swiftly swept up, lightly landing on Gustave's nose then retracting just as quickly. Gustave half giggled half gasped, shocked and surprised in equal measures.

"I learned that from Miss Fleck," Mr. Y said, a bit of a smirk pulling at the corner of his painted mouth. Gustave struggled to imagine the fortitude Miss Fleck must've had to try the same trick on Mr. Y, her diminutive finger daring to tap that formidable false nose, but just as he was beginning to lose himself in this scenario, Mr. Y added, "I saw her do it to Dr. Gangle."

At the edge of the park, still safely nestled in the shadows, they took a moment to consider their approach.

"You see that area right there?" Mr. Y's voice tickled Gustave's ear as if he was whispering directly to him yet he was standing tall, one long arm extended, pointing at a dark little corridor down around the side of the building. Gustave nodded. "We'll cross quickly. Shut off the lamp for now and follow me."

Gustave barely had a moment to snap the dark lantern shut before Mr. Y took off towards the building. Gustave struggled to keep pace with him, scrambling in the wake of his long-legged strides. The shadowy alleyway swallowed him up; Gustave blindly reached out, grasping until he caught the edge of Mr. Y's black cloak. Feeling the tug of Gustave's fingers holding on for dear life, Mr. Y slowed his pace, pressing a hand between Gustave's shoulder blades and gently guiding him through the darkness.

"Here we are…" Mr. Y came to a stop. Gustave had a moment to catch his breath and stood still, knees shaking, in the shadows. His eyes adjusted gradually to the gloom and he saw that they had stopped just outside of a side door entrance. There was the sound of jingling, rattling, and Mr. Y bent down to the lock. For a second, Gustave thought that he actually had the keys to the museum. As he started working on the lock, scraping and picking at it, it dawned on Gustave that there wasn't an after hours tour prepared or some special allowance made for a charitable contributor; they were breaking into the museum, committing a crime. He felt energized, jittery even, and he wondered if it was the excitement or the coffee or both.

There was a click and a creak; the door eventually yielded. Gustave eagerly stepped forward but just as he was about to cross the threshold, Mr. Y pressed a finger to his chest, halting him.

"Oh, Gustave...I've really failed you, haven't I?"

What was this sad lilt to his voice, this strange look in his flickering eyes? What was he talking about? He reached behind the door, locked it once more, and closed it. Was he having a crisis of morality? How could he bring them this far only to turn around at the last moment? How could he deny him their dinosaurs!? Gustave felt his gut tighten up, his lungs ready to explode in a frustrated scream.

"I forget you can't see as easily as I can under these conditions. Open the lantern a little and bring it closer so you can observe my technique."

The scream that was building inside of him deflated, rushing out as a ragged sigh. His fingers scrambled to lift the latch on the lantern, holding it up as Mr. Y demonstrated how to pick the museum's lock. As he fiddled with a few slender metal instruments, he instructed Gustave to listen closely for certain sounds, promised to allow him to practice on several doors when they got back to Phantasma, pledged to make sure Gustave had his own set of lock picking tools. As Mr. Y solemnly vowed that Gustave would never be stuck behind a closed door, Gustave was only thrilled to learn forbidden knowledge. That and he was simply bursting with excitement that he was going to finally see real dinosaurs.

Beyond the door was more darkness but with the dark lantern's slat cracked just a bit, Gustave could see well enough to make his way without bumping into anything. Past the storage spaces with mannequins casting strange shadows and boxes full of the mysterious and the mundane, up through winding service stairwells, they found their way to the correct floor. Soft moonlight through the skylights gave everything a silvery, dreamy glow here, made it much easier to see and allowed Gustave to catch a glimpse of a tyrannosaurus' metatarsal around the side of an archway. Unable to convey the swell of caffeine-enhanced joy that overcame him, all he could do was latch on to Mr. Y's cloak and pull him towards their ultimate destination.

Finally, they were there - at the foot of the terrible long-deceased tyrant lizard king, his fossilized remains standing tall above them, bigger and bonier than Gustave ever imagined. He stared, mouth agape, unable to say words or think thoughts, simply vibrating with elation. After a second of slack-jawed awe, he glanced over his shoulder at Mr. Y and the two passed a look between them as if to say "DINOSAURS!".

"Let's get a bit closer, shall we?" Mr. Y swung his leg over the railing and beckoned Gustave to follow.

"But," Gustave tentatively placed his hands on the rail. "Is that...allowed?"

"We're responsible fellows, aren't we? We hold great admiration for such magnificent pieces and will treat them with utmost respect, won't we?"

"Well…" Gustave got his knee up on the rail yet felt the strong pull of propriety and all of the high society manners that had been drilled into him holding him back.

"Come now; I promise we'll be very gentle with Sir Tyrannosaurus." Mr. Y plucked him up by the collar and eased him over the rail, vanquishing Gustave's indecision. "Besides - who's going to stop us?"

There was a gasp at the end of the hall. Gustave's head swiveled towards the sound and saw a lone museum guard caught in the doorframe, eyes wide and locked on Mr. Y. Gustave sometimes forgot how menacing Mr. Y could seem to those not used to his appearance, especially in this hall draped in ribbons of moonlight and shadows - impossibly tall, swirling black cloak, and two candle-lit eyes, the only features visible under the wide brim of his hat.

"Gustave, wait here - I'm going to have a quick word with our new friend." Mr. Y's reassuring voice instantly put Gustave at ease. In fact, he really didn't have the urge to move from where he stood or follow behind Mr. Y to see what he was going to say to the guard, knew that it would be handled, and didn't it just make sense to stay put anyways? From where he remained standing, Gustave could only hear the barest hint of the conversation between Mr. Y and the guard. It seemed so pleasant, so soothing, the words buzzing behind his eyes just a little. At the end of their talk, Mr. Y slipped something into the guard's front pocket and they both parted ways, all concerns seemingly resolved.

"Are we in trouble?" Gustave asked as Mr. Y cleared the rail once more.

"Not at all, Gustave. I explained that we were two archaeology enthusiasts visiting after hours to satisfy our scientific curiosity. I apologized for not leaving the entrance fee at the front desk when we came in and so I paid him the amount due plus a little extra for a nice dinner. We're now free to explore as we choose."

The way Mr. Y said it, with his voice as smooth as glass, everything seemed to make sense, and Gustave didn't feel like thinking about the incident much more anyways.

"Now," Mr. Y's voice had lost that deep, peaceful timber and the excitement that had sunk inside of Gustave momentarily came rushing back to the surface. "how about I hold you up so you can get your hand in that mouth and see if the teeth are still sharp?"

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"_Gustave...Gustave…._"

A lovely voice, silvery, melodious, found him in the depths of his dreams, gently teasing him back to the land of the conscious. As it drew him into the waking world, he felt a hand, soft and light, gently stroking the arm that was outside of the covers. With a whimper, he barely cracked one eye open and found his mother bent over the side of the bed. The curtains on the balcony doors were drawn back a bit allowing enough light in to frame her in bright sunshine.

"Gustave, I've never seen you so tired…"

He tried to form a few words but barely managed more than muffled mumbling.

"It's past noon. Weren't you going to the museum today to see the dinosaurs?"

Oh…Was that what she was bothering him about?

"Already went." Gustave yawned and snuggled further into the feather stuffed pillow.

"In your dreams?"

"No — I went last night with Mr. Y."

"...you did?"

His eyes were still closed but he heard a shift in her voice. How troublesome! Couldn't she see he was tired? Maybe if he had a cup of that delicious, sweet thick coffee to wake him up…

"Wasn't the museum closed?"

"Not to us."

He felt his mother lift the edge of the coverlet. He whined, grasping at it blindly, trying to pull it back over himself.

"Gustave, you seem to be dressed in your street clothes, not the pajamas we put on last night."

"Dark colors to blend into the shadows," he mumbled, sighing with relief as she tucked the coverlet back over him.

"...is this a candy wrapper here by your pillow?"

"Turkish delight to go with the Turkish coffee. Needed to stay awake. Didn't want to fall asleep...under the apatosaurus…" Gustave yawned again and sunk further into his cozy nest.

"I see. I suppose you need to rest after all of that excitement."

Gustave grunted in agreement as his mother kissed him on the forehead and left him to his dreams and that, seemingly, was that…

…Until he jolted awake half an hour later realizing how easily his mother had teased details of his forbidden outing while he was in half asleep! Gustave thought back to all the time he played pirates and how, when he was captured by the bad guys, he would swear to never spill his compatriots' secrets under threat of torture and yet when it came time to keep his mouth closed, all it took was a soft comforter wrapped around his shoulders and a gentle voice. How unfair!

Gustave sat upright, his guts gnarled in worry, a cold sheen of sweat at his temples. In the bright light of day, the entire adventure was suddenly all too clear. There was the escape from the penthouse, the drive to Central Park, the lesson at the doorway, the exhibit, the guard, and then - well, they had come that far, hadn't they? Why not make a whole day (or night, as it were) out of it? They had perused each and every exhibit from top to bottom until...until...There's where things got a bit fuzzy.

He remembered that at some point, perhaps moments before dawn and somewhere in the hall with all the stuffed and mounted animals, the coffee and enthusiasm failed him and he began to lag behind. Mr. Y was going on about the camels, expounding on their sweet nature, noble visage, and keen intuition regarding who deserved to get a faceful of camel spit, when Gustave sat down to rest a moment and never quite got on his feet again.

From the camels, they made it back to the car but Gustave couldn't quite remember how. The gentle rumbling and rocking of the cab finished him off and he didn't remember waking after that. How Mr. Y got them back up without crossing the front threshold, he wasn't entirely clear on the details. He kicked off the coverlet and realized with dread that he was mostly still completely dressed. His tie, jacket, and boots had been removed but beyond that, he had simply been bundled into bed as is.

What kind of trouble would he be in? His mother would surely punish him for such a gross infraction. Would he be denied another dinosaur excursion? Would he be stuck going to his mother's endlessly dull society parties instead of staying at the park and playing with his friends? Worse — would she forbid Mr. Y from teaching him how to pick locks and walk soundlessly and scale walls? Poor Mr. Y — if Gustave was in trouble, Mr. Y was definitely in for it!

As one speaks of the devil and he appears, so too, did Gustave's partner in dinosaur-related crime. There was a polite knock on the front door and Gustave didn't need Madame Zathuria from the boardwalk and her crystal ball to figure out who his mother had summoned.

"Erik, thank you for coming by,"

"Of course. Any time."

His bedroom door was partially cracked and Gustave was able to hear his mother and Mr. Y exchanging pleasantries at the front door. He was grateful for his thick socks since they muffled the sounds of his footsteps as he crept towards the cracked door. Peeking through, he saw Mr. Y waiting for further direction in the hall. He caught Gustave's eye and gave him a reassuring look, a promise that he wouldn't betray them. It was then that Gustave knew they were doomed. Under his mother's scrutiny, Mr. Y folded faster than a tourist's cheap beach chair on the last day of summer with only five minutes left to catch the last train out of Coney.

Gustave pulled back, hiding behind the door; his mother entered the hall, motioning towards the parlor.

"Looking for your partner in crime?" she asked. "He's still asleep. From what I understand, he had a very exciting evening."

"Oh…?"

Gustave dared to peek around the corner once more. His mother and Mr. Y were now in the parlor and he had to strain to see them. His mother's back was mercifully toward him and he had a clear view of Mr. Y. He always looked a bit off in the daylight but now his throat was bobbing above his stiff collar, the pink creeping into his cheeks made the powder on his face stand out.

"Yes. He told me about a little adventure you two went on last night…" Gustave's mother was speaking quietly in that soft voice that was able to tease a confession from even the most tight-lipped sinner.

"Perhaps it was a - a - dream?"

Oh no. A tremble had entered Mr. Y's voice, that voice that was usually so steady and strong. It wasn't long before all of their misdeeds were revealed and Gustave would be grounded forever.

"What a wonderful dream it was," his mother continued. "You drove to the museum under cloak of darkness, Gustave got to see the dinosaurs with you, you gave him Turkish delights and coffee to keep him up…"

Gustave swore he could see sweat beading on the forehead of Mr. Y's mask.

"I wonder how this dream began...I imagine you would have to...I don't know...climb out the window so that I was none the wiser…" His mother was closing in on her prey - the truth - with deadly accuracy. How was she so good at this? Gustave knew he would never get away with anything for the rest of his life - if he was ever allowed out of doors again.

Mr. Y fidgeted with his cufflinks. "Well...you must consider that it was very - err - considerate that we didn't wake you…" "Did you ever consider," she said, tilting her chin up. "That I would've liked to have gone too?"


End file.
